


Whiskey and Regret

by SeungMaoKi



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, during those two years, my first full sam rafe piece and it's angst central whoopise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:28:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeungMaoKi/pseuds/SeungMaoKi
Summary: The reason why Sam left Rafe in Scotland.





	Whiskey and Regret

“You know what Rafe? I’m sick of it.” Sam had shouted, the words knocking the air from Rafe’s lungs as he stared at the man he loved, too shocked and confused to say anything. Not that he needed to.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done do you? As always.” Sam’s voice had a very unique tone of both malice and apathy and Rafe hated how it made his heart squeeze and stop at once. He stood, eyebrows furrowed and face slightly pale as he watched the taller shake his head.

“I... I don’t know what I’ve done, Samuel.” His voice sounded fragile to even his own ears yet the look that Sam gave him told him they were the wrong words. He observed the way the olders eyes lit up with anger; something Rafe would never get used to.

“How many times huh? How many times on this god damned search are you gonna leave me out of the fucking loop? Am I just some knowledge pool you can throw in a cupboard and pull out when you need it? Is that why you got me out of that hell-hole?” Sam’s voice had risen and Rafe shrunk into himself a little. 

He hadn’t left him out of anything, not to his knowledge. He wrapped his arms around himself, starting to feel disgusting and weak for getting so upset over this. He hated Sam for having this affect on his emotions. 

“I haven’t left you out of any important decisions Samuel,” Rafe could feel himself shutting down, drawing further and further into himself as he stood straighter, face falling to a neutral expression “If you’re referring to my earlier meeting, I informed you of it’s happening and you declined claiming you had no desire to waste more time with ‘rich assholes.’” He spoke calmly, eyes hard as he watched Sam’s eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t wanna hang out with a bunch of old money shitting bastards but that doesn’t mean you make detrimental decisions on your own Rafe. Last time you did that I lost half my fucking life.” There was a flash of shock on Sam’s expression before he schooled it back to a scowl, clearly too angry to care for Rafe’s feelings right now.

And Rafe wanted to cry out, to apologise and tell him he hadn’t mean to, he panicked and it’s in his system to accept when he sees a good deal and he hadn’t have thought Sam would mind but instead he laughs dryly, hand waving flippantly.

“I am clearly bad at decisions, since I thought you could help me. But you have been nothing but a hindrance. Progress has felt slower than ever with you around, a lot of my men greatly dislike you and I’m getting tired of this haughty wannabe treasure hunter act myself, Samuel.” He spoke bluntly, already reaching for his jacket as Sam scoffed behind him.

“Fine. I give up Rafe. I really thought this could work but, you’re exactly who Nathan warned me you were; petty, egotistical and bratty.” Sam spoke with an underlying humour and the mention of him really was the last nail in the coffin. Rafe didn’t look back as he left the apartment, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He was stupid to trust Samuel Drake, older brother of fake and so proclaimed legend Nathan Drake. A duo of traitors, born into nothing but a life of deceit and thievery. Somewhere he knew that that was never there fault, just the better of the few choices they were left with. But he was bitter.

Bitter of what he’d been born into, bitter about who it had turned him into.

And bitter that he loved him. 

If he believed in any god he would call them cruel; to make him feel something so strongly, something that whichever deity decided his life was theirs knew he’d never had any experience of.

It broke him apart everyday to know he was just out of reach of being capable of love. He knew he wanted Sam, he knew he cared for him and there was a part of him, even now, walking alone and cold and full of spite that wanted him to turn back, apologise and feel the older relax against him, arms around his shoulders and whisper into his hair that it’s okay, he just over reacted.

But his shield was stronger than his heart. So he kept walking, not even sure where he was going. There were no bars or restaurants out here in the middle of nowhere in Scotland. Just tress and vast open spaces, cliffs high enough to break bones and split skin if fallen from.  
And he considered it. Stood high above the ocean, watching it curl against the rocky surface with an anger that could only be described as wild. 

“Hey babe? Have you seen my jacket?” Sam had called from the wardrobe, eyebrows furrowed as he pushed hanger upon hanger aside.  
Rafe poked his head in, hands dropping from his cuffs as he approached the older, gentle smile on his face.

“Do you mean the black one? We had to throw it out remember? You tore the sleeve off in a crash.” He spoke gently, arms circling around Sams waist and cheek resting against his back in time to feel the vibration of the others laugh.

“Oh right. Yeah. Okay but, what about the grey one? I know that one is still in tact.” He spoke quietly, largers hands covering Rafe’s and thumb running over the back. Rafe just hummed, reason for getting ready fading to the back of his mind as he took in the scent of his partner; tobacco and something dark and strong, like perfectly aged whiskey with a hint of fresh coffee. He reached on his tiptoes to kiss the back of his neck, earning a quiet groan and smiled.

“You know, I think I might know where it is,” Rafe muttered, shivering slightly at the way Sam tipped his head to the side and bent slightly to accommodate Rafe’s mouth against his throat. “But, we may have to do some... Intense exploration of the room. I suggest we start with the bed.” Sam had laughed, turning around in his hold to dip his head and kiss him hard and hot. Rafe sighed happily, hopping to wrap his legs around Sams waist and Sam, ever in sync, lifted him effortlessly with a mumble of how much he loved him.

The memory hit him like a truck, making him stumble as he stared at the sky wide eyed, barely registering the rain against his cheek. He took a deep breath, turning from the cliff edge and looking back in the direction of the house, feet carrying him back.

He should’ve listened. He should’ve stopped and calmed down. Sam was right. He was so used to working alone, so bitter from being left behind and dropped so many times it barely registered for him to take any other opinion into account if his was sound. He sped up, heart hammering in his chest as the rain hit his face, cold and sharp. 

All he had to do was get back to the house and open the door. Stride up to Sam and kiss him soundly, pouring his apology and love into the kiss, continue to express his sorrow with whispered words and light touches and Sam would understand. He always understood him, even from the first glance. He knew straight away everything was an act. He knew and believed that there was a kinder, softer boy underneath the cold and mature shell. 

But that boy had drowned over the years, had become less and less clear, less and less loud and Rafe knew it. He knew he was becoming more like his father every day. Knew he was become hungrier, crazier and colder which each passing second.

But he held onto hope, hand slipping on the door handle and heart about to burst in his chest as he pushed through the doorway.

His eyes searched and searched. He glanced to the chair Sam liked to read in, the window he smoked by despite Rafe’s constant disapproval. Rushed upstairs and threw the door open the the spare room where Sam could be found pouring over journals and maps, opening every door and envisioning the man he loved looking up at him, but with every empty room his hope dropped lower and lower.

He paused in front of their bedroom door. He knew the chances of Sam being in there were slim, to him the bedroom was for sex and sleep, nothing more and nothing less. He clung to the last tiny string of hope only to feel it slip from his fingers and fall to the floor as he stared at the empty bed. He dashed to the wardrobe, flinging the door open and stumbled against the door frame.

Not much was missing, but Rafe knew Sam well enough to know he only needed a few essentials to go somewhere. Knew things like his brown combat boots and blue denim Sherpa were within a handful of things he cherished and he felt his knees hit the floor at the sight of them missing. 

He’d drove him away. He wanted to be angry at Sam, for leaving over something like this but he knew, it wasn’t this that did it. IT was every other time Rafe had pushed him out, had acted cautiously as if Sam would break him. Had refused to open up or shut down if he felt himself beginning to.

He could only be angry at himself. And maybe Sam had secretly resented him. For taking half of his life away, only to put him a different type of imprisonment. “Feels like I was allowed out to mourn but the chains are still there.” He had described it that way the first week, laughing in a way that told Rafe he only partially meant it. But meant it none the less and Rafe had been too excited at the news of him being alive, at the sight of him breathing in front of him and the prospect of finally finding Avery’s treasure with the man that taught him to love and be passionate about something to realise the implication of those words.

Sam was cautious from the get go. It was obvious his feelings had not died away in prison but now that Rafe looks back on it, it was obvious he wouldn’t let himself get too close. And Rafe had ignored that and only pushed him further and further away.

And now he stared at Sams empty pillow, arm under his head as he felt the tears fall silently. He reached out to pull it to him, breathing in the already fast disappearing scent of Sam and closed his eyes, praying to himself that he would wake up to the large calloused hands he loved so much running through his hair.


End file.
